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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690866">past</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonics/pseuds/platonics'>platonics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>joy (when you call me) // himikiyo oneshot set [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(but not really), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Loneliness, Love at First Sight, Memory Alteration, Nonbinary Shinguji Korekiyo, Nostalgia, Other, Post-Canon, Reunions, Shopping Malls, first meeting but not really</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:34:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonics/pseuds/platonics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Nostalgia (n): a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>In which Danganronpa 53 was produced but never aired.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shinguji Korekiyo/Yumeno Himiko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>joy (when you call me) // himikiyo oneshot set [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <em>if this looks familiar to anyone, that's because this (and the rest of the works in this series) were originally posted in july 2019. however, i'm going through and editing them to make them flow better, tagging less lazily than i did at the time, and putting them in a series as opposed to chapters of a single work. sorry for any inconvenience!</em>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Nostalgia (n): a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. </em>
</p><p>Everyone experienced nostalgia from time to time, but Himiko had always felt as if she experienced it more than most. Or, no, that wasn’t quite right. Not always. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it started, but she supposed it must have been a year or two ago, around the time she auditioned for Danganronpa. </p><p>Her nostalgia didn’t quite feel normal either. There were no solid memories tied to those waves of emotion. She’d felt normal nostalgia enough times to know the difference. Even though they were based in the same sort of wistfulness, remembering a happy event from her childhood was worlds away from this...crippling, inexplicable sensation. Every so often it would wash over her unexpectedly, triggered by a mundane scent or sound, and it felt like someone had punched her in the stomach.</p><p>Himiko had never been the kind of person to have many friends. It was lonely sometimes, but she didn’t mind it much. Even what few friendly acquaintances she did have began to distance themselves as it became harder and harder to hide what she felt. Everyone was so quick to call her weird, to say she was too caught up in fantasies, as if it was some work of fiction she could push aside.</p><p>How could she feel so homesick for something she’d never had in the first place?</p><p>All she had were wisps, brief hints at memories or sensations that immediately brought those emotions to the forefront. It felt like something had been stolen from her, but what, she didn’t know.</p><p>She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Maybe if she just focused hard enough...Someone shoved her from behind. Moment of peace rudely interrupted, Himiko turned to see who had done it, but they were already gone. She sighed, stepping into the nearest store. Stopping in the middle of the mall walkway hadn’t been her smartest idea anyway.</p><p>It was much more peaceful here, she found. She wandered through the store, nearly devoid of other customers. Music played softly in the background, and the lights were dim, making the whole place seem slightly eerie. She liked it instantly. Not paying any particular attention to where she was going, Himiko soon found herself standing in front of a display of incense and potpourri. Yes. Incense felt...right, somehow. She couldn’t pinpoint a particular scent, but she knew there was something smoky among the collection of things that brought her comfort. Incense, ink, old books...The chemical scent of nail polish and the slightly rough texture of gauze bandages. All things she never used to have any special affinity for.</p><p>She chose two boxes at random and walked up to the counter. Maybe it would help.</p><p>It did, in a manner of speaking. When she was curled up in her room at home, incense burning in the corner, the wafting smoke felt almost like she was being wrapped up in a hug. On the other hand, it only intensified the longing. Himiko laid there for hours, on the verge of tears and searching her mind for something, anything.</p><p>	She caught glimpses sometimes when she was in that state halfway between sleep and consciousness, unable to tell if they were dreams or memories. Long, dark hair, still damp from a shower. The sharp edges of a book against her cheek from where she’d fallen asleep against it. Sunlight filtering in the window. None of it tangible enough to hold onto.</p><p>	She kept going back to the mall, wandering aimlessly in search of anything that felt like the missing pieces of the puzzle. Someone asked her what was wrong once, saying she looked sad. Himiko meant to say it was nothing, that she was just tired, but the words that slipped out instead were, “I miss my girlfriend.” She didn’t have a girlfriend. She’d never had one, in fact.</p><p>	She dwelled on that thought for a long time, sitting on the edge of the fountain in the massive, open foyer. Countless people passed by, families, couples, all of them entirely wrapped up in their own lives. She sighed and stretched out along the ledge, allowing her fingertips to trail in the water. </p><p>	There was a girl about her age on TV, Tsumugi Shirogane according to the text on-screen. From what Himiko could tell, she was talking about Danganronpa 53 footage someone had leaked. Everything was taped beforehand, so seasons were re-done sometimes. If a killing game was a little lackluster, they just stuck a fresh cast in the simulation and redid it, the previous one languishing in obscurity, never to be seen. There were rumors that they erased all memories of the killing game from the first batch, but nobody had ever confirmed that. Anyway, 53 had apparently been one of those seasons. Himiko didn’t pay much attention to whatever Shirogane was saying. She wasn’t very interested in Danganronpa anymore, ever since they hadn’t even bothered to reject her properly for that very same season.</p><p>	She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before someone sat down next to her. All she knew was that she opened her eyes, still laying there on the edge of the fountain, and everything clicked. She was gazing up into bright golden eyes, most of the stranger’s face covered by a mask. Her head was nearly brushing against their thigh, but for some reason, the proximity didn’t feel awkward, despite them being a stranger.</p><p>	“Hello,” they said. Himiko couldn’t tell if it was just their voice, or if they sounded a little breathless.</p><p>	“Hi.” Yep, her voice had that same quality to it, like all the air had been stolen from her lungs. If the ordinary waves of nostalgia were like being punched in the stomach, this was closer to being hit with a baseball bat. </p><p>	“Is it just me, or have we met before?”</p><p>	“No, I don’t think it’s just you,” she murmured. Himiko couldn’t decide what to say or do next, but once again, her mouth acted on its own. “Kiyo.”</p><p>	The stranger—Kiyo?—looked stunned. Himiko thought, from her upside down vantage point, that they might be blushing a little under the mask.</p><p>	“How do you know my name?”</p><p>	“I...I’m not sure.” Himiko sat up, voice shaking a little. “It just kinda...came out?”</p><p>	“Well, I suppose proper introductions are in order, since we have quite a lot to talk about, yes? Shinguuji Korekiyo.”</p><p>	“Yumeno Himiko.”</p><p>	“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yumeno-san. Or...meet you again, as the case may be.”</p><p>	“Yeah,” she murmured, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you too. And...you can call me Himiko, I think. My subconscious called you Kiyo, after all.”</p><p>	They chuckled at that, tucking a lock of hair behind their ear. Light reflected off the red of their nail polish, and somehow, she felt certain that she’d seen that exact shade before.</p><p>	“Alright, Himiko. Now, tell me...did you by any chance audition for Danganronpa 53?”</p>
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